


A Series of Drabbles of Varying Quality

by ValarMorghuliss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarMorghuliss/pseuds/ValarMorghuliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles which may or may not interest you. Requests are taken, and relevant pairings and characters are listed at the chapter title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The False Son (Visenya)

Visenya is insulted, that weak Aenys will take the throne before Maegor, the trueborn heir to Aegon. She knows that Aenys is not Aegon's son, that Rhaenys made him with whichever bard or knight took her fancy at the time of his conception, but Aegon is blind to Rhaenys’ indiscretions. He can hardly see that the weakling he names as heir is barely even Valyrian.  
She watches her son in the yard, his swordplay so much better than other boys of his age, his body more lithe and warrior-like than Aenys. She’s always said that Maegor takes after Aegon, and Aenys takes after a dumpling. Her son should be king, she knew it as soon as she brought him into the world, screaming and covered in blood, but ever since Rhaenys’ fall in Dorne, the living queen’s will has been shadowed by the dead one’s.  
It’s not that she hated Rhaenys, in fact, she loved her, with her sweet spirit and unconditional love, but Rhaenys birth ruined everything for her, she took her parents love, her husband’s affection, her glory, and all Visenya got was Dark Sister.  
It’s not that she hates Aenys, but she will not let him overpower her son like his mother overpowered her.


	2. The Girl All The Bad Guys Want (Ned x Ashara ft Westeros High)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned/Ashara, high school AU. Title taken from Girl All The Bad Girls Want by Bowling For Soup. I'm thinking of continuing this so let me know what you think.

Ned is 15 when he meets Ashara Dayne. He’s sat in his new classroom, in his new school, in a new city when she walks in and sits at the desk in front of him. She’s wearing a black sundress and all he thinks about all day are those long tanned legs and her glossy dark hair. He laughs when he sees her texting under the desk and is more than happy to let her copy his homework if it makes her smile.  
She enchants him all week, with her ripped skinny jeans and crop tops that are definitely in violation of the dress code. At home, Lyanna begs father for a nose piercing, just like the girl’s in Ned’s French class. Of course, Rickard Stark says no and Brandon snorts with laughter but all Ned thinks about is how the cold steel of Ashara's nose ring would feel against his skin when he kisses her.  
He starts buying the CDs of bands whose shirts Ashara wears, and some aren’t half bad, until Brandon asks if he’s turning goth and tells him that Ned will be disowned if he starts wearing eyeliner to school, so he takes his studded belts back to Hot Topic, but keeps the black jeans.  
After the weekend, she has dyed her hair violet, to match her eyes and Ned finds that he likes it, and says as much.  
“I like your hair”  
“Thanks” she says in her accent that sends tingles down his spine, “I’m Ashara”  
“I’m Ned”  
“I know” she says, and walks away with her brother, who has bleach blonde surfer hair and looks like a tanned Kurt Cobain.  
He has his headphones in, just before French starts, going over his essay when she walks through the door. Her face cringes at her tall, skinny friend who gives her a thumbs up, before walking directly up to his desk in her fishnet tights. He takes his headphones out and she tosses her hair over her shoulder sending a wave of lavender up his nose before saying, “look, Arthur’s having a party this weekend, and normally he doesn’t let me invite friends but he owes me for not telling Elia that he’s had a crush on her since third grade so I guess I’m asking if you want to come.”  
Ned nods, hesitantly.  
“Good, this Friday at 9, 18 Starfall Drive.” she says, taking her seat, before throwing a look over her shoulder.  
“Oh, and Ned, bring pizza”


	3. The Queen of Thorns (Olenna Tyrell)

Olenna knows that she is dying. She knew it as soon as she saw the purpled skin around her heart and felt the way her lungs heaved every time she walked up stairs. The poison of age was spreading through her body, ruining her ability to carry out simple tasks. If her children and grandchildren have noticed the way that her hand turns purple from gripping onto her walking stick as she tries to keep herself upright, then they say nothing, for which she is glad. She was strong while she lived, and now that she is dying there is no space for weakness in Olenna Tyrell.  
As she thinks of her life, she realises that there was never a time when she was weak. She never cried when her mother ignored her for the her wine glass, she never cared that it was her sister that the handsome knights adored, with her perfect courtesies and outgoing smiles. Olenna had perfect courtesies too, her septa made sure of it, but when she grew older, she realised that courtesy would do her no good against the icy tongues and cold steel of the real world. She never even had love, except perhaps her children, but then, she didn’t think she could ever truly love anything.  
She loves her grandchildren, she supposes; Willas, who was everything her Mace wasn’t, Garlan, who is a great oaf but is the most loving husband in the entire Seven Kingdoms, Margaery, who has all of Olenna’s wisdom and none of her vices, and Loras, who seemed to inherit all of her vanity and pride.  
It is the grandchildren that she thinks of now, at the end of her life. She wonders what House Tyrell will do without her, when she is resting in the ground and the Reach is truly ruled by Mace Muttonhead.  
She has lived a good life, with little regret and yet, as she sits in Kings Landing watching that horrible kingly Monster parade about with her treasured granddaughter on his arm she knows that she will take Joffrey the Golden with her.


	4. The Tudors AU- Sansa Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about making this into a 3/4 part series, so let me know what you think!

Sansa comes to court when she is three and ten, under the guidance of Aunt Lysa and Uncle Jon. She’s so nervous that she almost trips over her fine new gown, but regains herself in order to curtsey in front of Queen Jane, for whom she is to be a maid of honour. The great hall is full of ladies, all southern and well-acquainted, for Sansa arrived late. They all gaze at Sansa, still in her pale blue riding gown and she gives one of the best curtseys she can, with her eyes cast to the floor and a pale pink blush rising up her cheeks.  
“Welcome to court, Lady Stark” says the queen, and bids her rise, then continuing to converse with her other ladies.  
A girl steps forward, who has deep brunette ringlets down to her back and the delicate stance of a southern lady.  
“I am Lady Margaery Tyrell, and the queen has tasked me with seeing you are settled at court.” she says, in her sweet, yet sultry voice.  
“Thank you for your kindness, Lady Margaery” replies Sansa, in the weakest voice imaginable.  
“Oh, do call me Marg, all my friends do,” she says with a wink, “come, I shall show you to your room.”  
She takes Marg’s hand and lets her lead her through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, knowing that she’ll never find her way back again. Eventually, they reach the quarters of the Queen’s ladies and she sees that all her gowns have already been delivered and unpacked by Aunt Lysa’s maids.  
“There is to be a dance tonight, and the queen bids us all attend. She likes us to wear white at formal occasions, pale blues and pinks at parties, masques and the like, and colours of our own choosing for ordinary days.” says Marg, looking through her collection of gowns. “Oh, you simply must wear this one!” exclaims Margaery, gesturing to her pastel pink gown with pearls on the sleeves and bodice.  
There is a knock at the door and it opens to show three girls, of similar appearance to Margaery.  
“Oh Marg, there you are! The queen said that you had gone to show the new girl about!” says the eldest of the three.  
“Elinor, Megga and Alla, meet the Lady Sansa Stark” says Margaery, gesturing to Sansa. The girls curtsey perfectly, and Sansa returns the courtesy.  
Sansa spends the rest of the day talking with her new friends, about the most eligible bachelors of the court and new French dances until it was time to attend the queen. They all slip on fine gowns of blue, pink and green and skip down the halls in their doeskin slippers.  
The queen looks beautiful, in a gown of sapphire blue and with her crown placed on her golden head. They all curtsey and take their place in her train, parading into the great hall.

 

Sansa is overwhelmed by the people, in their magnificent summer silks and glittering jewels. She’s had several cups of wine, more than she is allowed at home and has begun to feel more dizzy than usual. All the other girls are asked to dance, but she remains seated by the queen as she converses with his majesty. King Henry is not how she imagined a king to be, with his protruding belly and eyes that follow all the young ladies nastily about the hall, but he is her god chosen sovereign so she takes his glances in her stride and sits dutifully, while everyone enjoys themselves. She only becomes interested in the dance when her favourite tune begins to play and her face falls. She thought that court would be full of young men interested in her, but all it is is sitting at the side of the queen as people ignore her. She takes another bite of lemoncake, as the Queen calls over her brother Thomas.  
“Thomas, I do believe no young men have asked my newest lady to dance yet. A gross insult to Lady Stark here, who I believe to be one of the prettiest young ladies ever to attend a queen of England.” says the queen, loudly enough so the king and his immediate circle can hear.   
“I do believe that is because every man in the room is in such awe of her beauty that we fear to even approach such a lady” says Sir Thomas, with a wink towards Sansa. The king turns to watch the scene with amusement. “My sweet lady, will you do me the honour of giving me your first dance at court”  
Biting back a giggle, Sansa nods, takes his hand and allows her to lead her out to the floor. They dance three dances, each more exhausting than the last before he sits her back down again, only to have three more partners waiting for her. She shares a smile with the queen and thinks that she will love being at court.


	5. Wedding Nights- Lysa, Petyr and Cat

Lysa pretended it was her wedding night, and it was all so perfect. Petyr kissed her neck as he unlaced her sapphire blue bodice, raising her ruby red skirts above her knees. When the gown came off and Lysa gasped at the cold air hitting her bare breasts, he grinned and pushed her onto his unmade bed. When his doublet came off, she ran her fingers down his torso, dreaming of the day he would be her husband. He would be a king, as she his queen and the singers would sing songs of Lysa and Petyr, with love truer than any love before them.   
Suddenly it went from innocent kissing like they had played at since children to Petyr nudging apart her legs and taking away her maidenhood in a sharp stab of pain. There were tears in her eyes but Petyr still would not look into them, keeping his gaze fixed on the auburn curls sprawled about the pillow.   
It was all so perfect, until he whispered “Cat” into her hair.


	6. only worth living if somebody is loving you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first of my many greek mythology AUs. Cersei as Aphrodite, Robert as Hephaestus and mentions of Oberyn as Apollo and Rhaegar as Dionysus. there is a second half to this particular storyline, and as always, i take requests

They made her marry him, the disgusting, fat beast with his calloused hands, wiry beard and skin that always stank of sweat and metal. She was the most beautiful creature alive, the Goddess of Love and Beauty herself but the Gods of Olympus gave her in marriage to Robert, God of the forge, who would always love his anvils more than her. It was a cursed life for Cersei, whose entire existence was for love, but was shackled to a husband as hard as the metal he worked with. At her wedding, they told her it was an honour to be wed to such a well-loved figure, but she _knew_ that the only reason that Cersei was to be banished from joy was to stop her lovers breaking out in war over her hand. She could’ve had anyone, from Rhaegar who teaches how to coax juice from the grape with song and his handsome face, or Oberyn, God of the Sun who races through the skies on his chariot and is burning to touch, enough to set her golden skin smouldering as he kisses her cheeks and wishes her well. Upon his great gilded throne, Tywin had nodded at her and Jon Arryn said, “Try to be a good wife to Robert, won’t you, Cersei?” As if he would ever be a good husband to her.


End file.
